city, where he remained during a long period. He felt an abhorrence of the drama, and was deeply affected to find his son's passion for it so strong that reproof made him almost insane:

"A son his father's spirit doomed to cross,

By penning stanzas while he should engross."

His father writes to a friend in Boston as follows: "William had for some time discovered his propensity for theatric exhibitions, and by all opportunities. I discountenanced in him this inordinate passion. During my absence from Boston last summer, he wrote a play, which, on my return, some of the family mentioned to me. Although I was not pleased with his study and writings in this style, yet I supposed it a good opportunity to turn his attention, and destroy gradually his predilection for the stage. About a month previous to my leaving Boston, he grew sick, and was apparently in a decline. I was very anxious, and postponed my journey for some time. A few days before I left home, he seemed to be in better spirits, and declared himself to feel essentially better than he had been; and when I came away, opened himself in a very dutiful and respectful manner, by observing that his illness arose from his insatiable thirst for the stage; but that his resolution had gained the ascendency of his desires,—and entreated me not to have the least uneasiness respecting him in that particular, for he had determined not to give way to that inclination." However sincere was the promise, it was soon broken. The conflict of filial duty with passionate desire was so violent as to bring its victim to the verge of distraction. Unable to resist his dramatic love, he made his first appearance at the Federal-street Theatre, Dec. 14, 1796, in the character of Norval, in the tragedy of Douglas, and was received with great applause. In a letter of apology, written the next day to his father, he says: "I am sorry I was compelled by violence of inclination to deviate from my promises to you; but life was one series of vexations, disappointment and wretchedness. Pray let this consideration have some weight with you. But, for Heaven's sake, for your own sake, and for my own sake, do not tear me from a profession which, if I am deprived of, will be attended with fatal consequences!" Never did parent mourn more inconsolably for the worst follies or darkest crimes of his offspring, than did the father of the actor over this example of perversity in his family. His epistles are filled with expressions of distress so extravagant that they are only redeemed from

being ludicrous by the deep sorrow they breathe. He thus addresses the tragedian: "Dear William,- for so I will still call you,-my beloved son! stain not the memory of your amiable and tender mother by your folly; break not the heart of your father, bring not down his gray hairs with sorrow to the grave, but rouse yourself from this seeming state of insanity! Your youth will excuse you, for once. But, for God's sake, and everything you hold dear, I pray you to refrain, and be not again seen on a common stage!" The temporary success of the aspirant for theatric fame alleviated the sufferings of the distressed parent, and he reluctantly yielded to the advice of friends, and consented that William might occasionally tread the boards, but only in the elevated walks of tragedy. "Let me enjoin it upon you," he writes, "never to appear,-no, not for once, in any comic act, where the mimic tricks of a monkey are better fitted to excite laughter, and where dancing, singing and kissing, may be thought amusement enough for a dollar. No, William; I had, much as I love you, rather follow you to the grave, than to see you, and myself, and my family, so disgraced."

He appeared as Orlando in his own tragedy, Dezio; as Tancred, in Thompson's Tancred and Sigismundi, Jan. 2, 1797. He personated Romeo, and Octavian, in the Mountaineers, also, on the Boston stage. The tide of popular favor effected what parental admonition and entreaty failed to accomplish. Controversy with the manager arose,the applause which followed his first efforts grew fainter,— the fit of romantic enthusiasm exhausted itself, and the earliest exertion of reflection resulted in the determination to adopt the profession of the law. In July, 1797, he entered the office of Levi Lincoln, in Worcester, as a student. In July, 1800, he removed to Providence, where he completed his studies, under Judge Howell, and opened an office in that city. In 1804 Mr. White delivered an oration on the national independence, at Worcester. Not finding business, and being embarrassed for funds, he again resorted to the stage. Dunlap relates, in his History of the American Theatre, that, "On the 19th of January a young man from Worcester, Mass., was brought out with some promise of success, in young Norval. Curiosity was excited, and a house of six hundred and fourteen dollars obtained. He had performed in Boston, when quite a boy, with that applause so freely and often so industriously bestowed on such efforts; had since studied law, and was at this time a tall, handsome youth, but not

destined by nature to shine. He attempted Romeo, and gave hopes of improvement; but much improvement was wanting to constitute him an artist." He played Alonzo, in Columbus; Aimwell, in the Beaux Stratagem; Theodore, in the Court of Narbonne; Elvira, in the Christian Suitor; and Altamont, in the Fair Penitent. In the play of the Abbé de l'Epée he failed altogether in the part of St. Alme, was hissed, and withdrawn by his own consent, as it was announced to the public, "on finding the character too difficult." About this time was begun, and nearly completed, a drama, with the title, "The Conflict of Love and Patriotism, or the Afflicted Queen," still preserved in manuscript, and never finished. A visit to Richmond, Va., where he performed a few nights, was crowned with success, and he designed to devote his life to the stage. The reverse of fortune in some of his efforts again cured the dramatic mania. In the summer of 1801 he returned to the bar, and established himself at Rutland, Worcester county, where some of his relatives then resided, and where his father, who had become unfortunate in business, soon after removed. He was married to Tamar Smith, the daughter of a respectable farmer of Rutland. The degree of eminence and emolument he attained as counsellor did not satisfy his ambition, and he sought a wider field. He delivered a patriotic oration at Rutland, July 4, 1802. In May, 1809, he prepared to publish a Compendium of the Laws of Massachusetts, printed in that year and in 1810,- a work useful in that period, but soon superseded by a revision of the statutes,— and its publication was attended with great loss of money. The severe but witty comment of an eminent jurist on this work was, that it resembled the tessellated pavement in Burke's description, "here a little Blackstone, there a little White." To superintend the printing of this work, Mr. White removed to Boston in 1810, and formed a professional engagement with David Everett, Esq., of brief continuance. It was in the year previous that Mr. White delivered in Boston the oration named at the head of this article, on which occasion, in the procession, appeared the ship United States, full rigged, drawn by thirteen white horses, with mounted guns, and eight artillery-men on each side. In 1810 Mr. White pronounced another oration on the national independence, at Hubbardston. On the resignation of Judge Bangs, in 1811, he was appointed County Attorney, which station he retained until his death. In 1812 he removed to Gråfton, and in 1813 resided at Worcester, when he published the Avowals of a Republican, being

a vindication repelling the charge of apostasy from democratic principles, comprised in forty-eight octavo pages. In 1814 Mr. White removed to Sutton, where he married a second wife, Susan Johonnot, a daughter of Dr. Stephen Monroe, Aug. 13, 1815. He returned to Worcester in 1816, and, during the last years of his life, owing to an organic disease, the dropsy,- a mortal paleness overspread his countenance, and he died May 2, 1818, aged 41.

Through the whole of his active and singular career, the irrepressible love of the drama was his ruling passion. The Clergyman's Daughter, by Mr. White, a play founded on McKenzie's Man of the World, was first acted on the Boston stage Jan. 1, 1810, was published, and received with great favor. In December of that year Mr. White produced The Poor Lodger, a comedy (adopting the incidents of Evelina, an exquisite tale by Miss Burney), which was also published. He was an editor of the National Ægis.

Mr. Lincoln remarks of him, in the History of Worcester, from which a large portion of this sketch is condensed, that he possessed a high grade of talent which is called genius. In Mr. White's addresses at the bar, there were splendid passages of eloquence; but they were unequal, although parts were strong, they were not connected, with logical method and clearness. His taste was refined and correct. Greater constancy and perseverance might have raised him to high rank in many of the departments of forensic exertion, literary effort, or dramatic exhibition.

-

ALEXANDER TOWNSEND.

JULY 4, 1810 FOR THE TOWN AUTHORITIES.

In the oration of Mr. Townsend, we find a happy allusion to a prediction advanced in Smith's Wealth of Nations: "The tree of our republican liberty, like the fabled myrtle of Æneas, sinks its roots in blood. To agitate it extremely, might disturb the repose of our fathers. Like Polydore, they would cry to us from the ground,

That every drop this living tree contains

Is kindred blood, and ran in patriotic veins.'

Let us rally under its branches. Its leaves are healing to the taste. Transatlantic genius long since predicted, when we were one in government with Britain, that in little more than a century, perhaps, American taxation would be more productive than British, and the seat of empire change."

"Riot robbed glory of scarcely a life," says Mr. Townsend.

"Not

The fifth of March,

a drop of the blood that was poured out for liberty could be spared for licentiousness. Little mob violence disgraced our proceedings. The din of arms could not drown the voice of law. Men, hurrying on to liberty, still stopped to do homage to justice. 1770, while it did much to establish our independence, did more to prove we were worthy of it. The very soldiers, viewed in the most odious light, as members of a standing army quartered upon us in time of peace, whose firing upon the populace produced death and liberty, were almost immediately, by that populace, and for that firing, solemnly, deliberately and righteously, acquitted of murder. My friends, this is the greatest glory in our history, the brightest gem in our national diadem. Brutes have passions; men should govern them. We have another instance. In the temple of justice a voice was afterwards heard: 'I will this day die soldier, or sit judge;' and then was suddenly expressed what since, thank God, has proved a permanent feature of the New England judiciary."

Alexander Townsend was born in Boston, and son of David Townsend, formerly a watch-maker in State-street. He graduated at Harvard College in 1802, read law under the eminent Samuel Dexter, was an attorney of Suffolk bar in 1806, and soon became a counsellorat-law. He was an unmarried man. After the delivery of the oration at the head of this article, the following sentiment was given for the orator of the day, by the president, at the dinner in Faneuil Hall: 'May the principles he has this day eulogized long have the support of his talents and his eloquence." Mr. Townsend gave, on this occasion, "Faneuil Hall: May it never rock to sleep the independence it created."

Mr. Townsend was a large owner of real estate in Boston; and was proprietor of the Marlboro' Hotel, originally a dark, unsightly building, which he remodelled in handsome style; and, when advertising the edifice to let, informed those who complained that the building was deficient in light that they had better blame their eyes than the edifice. Mr. Townsend was warmly interested in the political topics